


Excisions

by trashdemon



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Hospital, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2015-04-15
Packaged: 2018-03-23 01:58:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3750691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashdemon/pseuds/trashdemon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[hospital!au] As Luhan tries to understand the meaning of 'goodbye', Sehun realises it's something he isn't ready to face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Excisions

**Author's Note:**

> cw: mentions of racism

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“Hey, Tao, are you fucking listening?”

Startled, Zitao looked up at Sehun, whose brows were frowning in a severe V over his eyes.

Zitao pushed his sunglasses up his nose and cleared his throat. “Yeah, sorry, I’m just… really tired.”

Sehun’s eyebrows slid back into flat apathy as he sighed, “I did the exact same thing on ward rounds yesterday morning. Consultant decided to grill me on third trimester migration of the gastrointestinal tract. Like, seriously. As if I’m in the fucking mood for stupid questions at 8AM in the fucking morning at the end of an eighteen hour shift. And this is the same fucking guy who looked personally insulted when I told him I wouldn’t be confident performing a C-section by myself. Like, is he stupid? I’ve been a registrar for less than four months and he wants me to perform a solo operation with two lives at stake? Get fucking real.”

Sehun paused to roll his eyes and sip his ice chocolate. The sunlight that had been streaming through the café window disappeared behind a cloud, and in the sudden darkness, Zitao took off his Gucci sunglasses and set them on the table.

Leaning forward in his chair, Sehun said, “Shit, Tao, you look terrible.”

Zitao blinked. “Hm?”

“It looks like someone punched you in both eyes. Like, I know you have eye bags, but this is…” Sehun’s mouth became a taut line and he pulled the skin down under his eyes. “You look dead.”

Zitao scoffed. “I sure feel dead. Hospital shifts are one thing, but I haven’t had a proper night’s sleep since…”

He faltered, swallowing against a painful tightness.

Bitching abandoned, Sehun’s voice was low and quiet. “Since what?”

Gnawing his lip, Zitao murmured, “Kris told me he’s going to leave.”

“Leave the hospital?”

“The country. He’s going back to China.”

“Shit.” Sehun chewed the straw in his drink. “Is this because he didn’t get into that radiation oncology program?”

Zitao nodded. “None of the colleges offered him anything he wanted. He says… he says he’s wasted too much time here.”

“I know he did half an undergrad degree in US before joining our med school, but we’ve only been out of uni for three years,” Sehun frowned. “There’s always next year to apply.”

“Things are more complicated than that, Sehun,” Zitao said. “We’re foreigners, you know?”

Sehun tilted his head, strong eyebrows furrowed and lips slightly parted. Sighing, Zitao slid his sunglasses back on. How could he explain it to a local student like Sehun, who never felt the bite of the college boards’ subtle racism, or the constant fear that he was never going to make it in this country? Sehun would never have a patient shuffle uncomfortably at his accent. _Where are you from?_ It was an accusation, a threat. The professors said, _The two most important things in a doctor’s arsenal are trust and communication skills._ Zitao had neither.

He managed, “It’s hard for us, you know.”

Sehun swirled the melting cream with the straw, “Yeah, but what Kris is doing… That’s kind of giving up, isn’t it?”

Maybe it was, but Zitao couldn’t blame Yi Fan for that, not when he felt the toxic discouragement each time he had to sit for an exam in a language that wasn’t his mother tongue. Yi Fan had helped Zitao at the beginning of university when the younger had stumbled over the language and struggled to write basic words, let alone medical terminology. There was no way he would be here today, a resident medical officer at a decent hospital, without Yi Fan’s help.

“I just wish he wouldn’t go,” Zitao murmured.

“You could always see him when you visit home, right?” Sehun asked.

 _We live on opposite ends of China_ , Zitao wanted to say, but he had a feeling that Sehun wouldn’t understand that either, so he forced a smile as Sehun’s pager beeped loud enough to make Sehun jump.

Setting his cup carefully on the table, Sehun gave his small slack-jawed smile, said, “Gotta go, babies to deliver,” and left Zitao hidden behind his sunglasses, untouched Americano cold in front of him.

*

Face pressed close to the standardised medical record form, Luhan squinted at the scrawl that some idiot called their handwriting and decided that it was completely indecipherable. He buried his face in his hands. He’d been typing up patient discharge summaries for the past hour and definitely deserved a coffee.

“This is an intern’s job,” he muttered, throwing the folder of records across the desk. “No wonder Yi Fan ditched this shit.”

It had been three months since Yi Fan had left and in that time Luhan hadn’t stopped thinking about him. Even within their group of twelve friends – now eleven – who continued to meet up for fortnightly drinks after graduating from medical school together, Luhan and Yi Fan had been close. But Luhan didn’t miss him. People moved on. It wasn’t sentimentality that kept Yi Fan in Luhan’s thoughts, rather a question: What prevented Luhan from leaving too?

Luhan was in the same boat Yi Fan had bailed from; he was a foreigner applying to specialise in a field every RMO wanted to get into but which the country already had an excess of doctors in. He’d considered giving up his dream job in paediatrics for general practice but, like Yi Fan, he was determined to pursue his chosen career path. However, out of him and his three Chinese friends, only Yixing had been accepted into his program of choice, a fellowship in geriatric medicine, an area in high demand. Would the rest of them ever get where they wanted? Staying here or returning home – neither option held the guarantee of fulfilled dreams, but at least back in China he wouldn’t have to put up with racist consultants.

As he considered leaving this place, his heart twinged. The emotion shocked him, and Luhan stomped his feet as if to crush that pining reluctance. Frustrated, he crashed into the tea room with more force than necessary and the door clanged into the metal locker behind it. Luhan flailed to steady the door, but the rebound sent it smacking into his face and he swallowed a screech.

From the kitchenette counter, Xiumin looked over his shoulder with an eyebrow raised. “You all right over there?”

Despite the ringing pain throughout the right side of his face, Luhan couldn’t help but grin at the sight of Xiumin.

“Sit down and I’ll make you a coffee,” Xiumin said.

Lying across the filthy threadbare sofa with his loafers hanging over the armrest, Luhan whined about the crabby old nurses and Xiumin made sympathetic sounds until his coffee was ready.

“This is perfect,” Luhan said, taking a sip.

Xiumin snorted. “Well, I have been making your coffee for over eight years.”

Luhan lurched forward, eyes bulging. “Seriously? It’s been that long?”

Swinging his legs from his perch on the benchtop, Xiumin counted on his fingers. “Since we started rooming together in first year of uni, and you kept freeloading off me while I was part-timing at the coffee shop, I’d definitely say I’ve more than memorised your order.”

They laughed together and Luhan sipped his drink while Xiumin nibbled on a biscuit.

“My rotation in the spinal rehab ward is ending soon,” Luhan pouted.

“Ah, where are you off to next?”

“Urology,” he stuck out his tongue. “It stinks up there.”

“Come on, it’s not that bad…”

“No, it definitely smells like urine on the urology ward!”

Xiumin grinned, shaking his head at him.

Luhan smiled. “I’m going to miss this.”

“Hmm? Miss what, paraplegic patients who also can’t use the toilet properly?”

“No, I mean…” Luhan shrugged and swept his arms out to gesture at the room, “… this.”

Xiumin snorted. “They’ll have a tea room in urology too.”

“Ugh, no.” Luhan clutched his mug. Why would he miss the spinal rehabilitation ward? The answer seemed just as elusive as that to the question about leaving this country. He drained the last of his coffee and as he stared at the dark stain at the bottom of the cup he realised that Xiumin wouldn’t be there to make his perfect blend, not in urology and not in China. And as the lingering bitterness of espresso on the back of Luhan’s tongue washed away, a deep ache arose in his heart that he felt could only be resolved by another taste of Xiumin’s coffee.

Luhan wanted to bound over to Xiumin’s side, but he couldn’t move from the couch, couldn’t bear to deal with what Xiumin’s response might be.

“If I leave…” Luhan’s voice cracked and fear fluttered high in his chest. He cleared his throat and gushed, “If I leave, will you miss me?”

Xiumin peered at him, eyes large but demeanour as stoic as ever. “I don’t have to miss you. You’ll always be there, even if you’re on a different ward.”

“What if I’m not here?” Luhan’s forehead creased and his cherubic face turned haggard. “How far do I have to go before you miss me?”

Xiumin smiled. “Do you want me to miss you?”

“If I go back to China, will you miss me?”

With a soft, “Hmm,” Xiumin slid off the bench and sat beside Luhan, the battered sofa sinking under their weight, knocking their knees together.

“Luhan,” Xiumin said, “you could travel to the moon and I wouldn’t miss you. You’re important to me, and time and distance can’t change that. Even if we’re in different countries, I’ll still be there for you.”

Asymmetrical grin broadening his face, Xiumin was the picture of everything comforting, and Luhan wanted to hold his friend close and absorb all the warmth of his words, but instead he clapped Xiumin on the back and laughed until he felt the prickling at the back of his eyes go away.

*

The thought wouldn’t have occurred to Sehun if he hadn’t been having lunch with Chanyeol when Luhan posted a selfie into their group chat.

Chanyeol was shovelling mouthfuls of cold cafeteria pasta into his mouth and chittering about the technique behind drilling holes in femurs, not noticing the cream flicking onto his blue gown in his excitement. Picking at his salad, Sehun hummed assent but he wasn’t really listening. Orthopaedics bored him.

Sehun’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out, grateful for the distraction. Luhan’s face, brightened by filters, beamed from the screen, the façade of a hospital visible over his shoulder. Accompanying the photo was a message, “First day on locum in paeds! Wish me luck!” along with a few kissy faces.

Chanyeol craned over to see. “Wow, looks like he’s doing well. Wonder how much they pay for locum in China.”

“He found a job really quickly.”

“Yeah, at this rate he’ll be a professor before the rest of us even become senior registrars. Except maybe for Suho.”

Sehun laughed. “The cardio genius.”

“I’m not kidding about Luhan though! That guy’s always been ambitious and he’s mad talented at talking to people, even when he was here. Back in China, I’m sure he’s got plenty of friends in the right places, you know what I’m saying?”

But Sehun thought that it was more than just networking – years ago, Luhan had helped him study when Sehun had trouble comprehending neuroanatomy and the clarity and precision with which he taught left Sehun convinced that behind Luhan’s bumbling front was one of the most intelligent students among them.

“He’s smart though,” Sehun said.

“It was definitely a smart move to go back to China,” Chanyeol nodded, chewing on a slice of chicken. “Do you think Tao will follow suit?”

Sehun frowned. “What?”

“Kris, Luhan… They were all having problems finding work they wanted here, just like Tao. That guy’s been trying to get into anaesthetics for a couple of years, hasn’t he? The other two have been doing pretty well back in China. I wouldn’t be surprised if Tao had better prospects there too.”

Sehun’s heart thundered hard in his chest, the pressure of each palpitation pounding in his ears, but his face betrayed nothing and Chanyeol continued eating, oblivious. The phone slid through the sweat in Sehun’s palm and clattered to the table. Starting, Sehun scooped it up and stumbled out of his seat, mumbling, “Sorry, gotta make a call.”

He loped through the hospital, the ringing tone echoing to no prevail. Feet restless, he kept marching and redialling until he passed through the hospital doors and into the smoking zone outside. He left a voicemail for Zitao to call him back and sat on the low wall outside the hospital, mouth in a hard line and blinking in the haze.

When was the last time the two of them talked properly? Between the rushed coffee dates, Sehun hadn’t kept up with Zitao. Sehun was used to Zitao’s repetitive whinging, but when Zitao talked about the problems of being Chinese, it wasn’t how he usually complained, like when he had bought his sold-out Prada shoes a size too small and pretended to cry and kick things. But what if Zitao’s comments about being a foreigner meant he wanted to leave the country? _If only I listened better_ , Sehun thought, and wished he could keep focus as well as Luhan.

When his phone screen lit up, Sehun picked up the call before it could even vibrate.

“Tao?”

“Sehun, obviously I was busy, was it really necessary to call me fourteen times?”

“I need to talk to you,” Sehun said, transferring the phone to his other hand and wiping his sweaty palms on his slacks.

“Is it going to take long? I’m holding a blood sample and I need to send it to pathology.”

“Let’s have dinner then.”

“I don’t get off until nine.”

“I’ll wait.”

Tao clicked his tongue. “Don’t force yourself.”

“No, I’ll… I’ll wait.”

At that, Tao’s voice softened. “I’ll see you then.”

Sehun napped in the oncology waiting room, his spindly limbs sprawled across two chairs. With his brow slightly furrowed and mouth gaping, the only difference between Sehun’s sleeping and everyday faces was how long his eyes were shut for.

Zitao was reluctant to disturb his rest, but Sehun roused as he drew near, yawning and rubbing his eyes.

“If you’re tired, you shouldn’t have waited,” Zitao snapped.

“No, I…” Sehun sat up straighter. “I wanted to wait for you.”

Zitao huffed and pulled him up by the hand. “Come on.”

Throughout the meal, Sehun kept trying to tell himself to bring up the topic, but his hunger was a good excuse to focus on food first and feelings later. _Definitely later_ , he thought, but when dinner was done and paid, Zitao said, “I’m heading home; I have an early shift tomorrow.”

Sehun grabbed his arm. “Wait.”

Zitao exhaled and in the yellow street lamp casting shadows over his eyes he looked like a jaundiced corpse. “I’m really tired, Sehun.”

All preparations to tactfully breach the subject fell away and Sehun stuttered, “Are you leaving to China?”

Zitao’s face scrunched up. “What?”

“Look, I get that it’s tough here for you, and I should’ve paid more attention to what you had to deal with, and you’re probably going to leave like the others but I just…” Sehun shuddered to a halt, his throat drying up, making the words difficult to get out. He pressed his lips together and looked at his shoes. “I don’t want you to go.”

A soft finger lifted Sehun’s chin. Zitao’s eyes were still weary, but a smile played at the corner of his mouth.

“Who said anything about leaving?” Zitao murmured.

Sehun wrapped his hand around Zitao’s and pulled it away. “I thought you felt the same as Kris and Luhan.”

“Because we’re all Chinese?” Zitao teased. He sighed and ran his thumb over Sehun’s fingers. “We do have similar problems, but their situation is different. They’re a few years older, and they’re more worried about progressing with their careers. Me? I’m just glad I can afford to replace my sunglasses every time I lose them.” Zitao laughed, his grin absolving his exhaustion. “It’s hard to deal with everything sometimes, especially when we’re so overworked, but I try to keep positive, you know? I guess for me, in the end, my reasons for staying outweigh the cons. I guess, despite it all, I love it here.”

Sehun bit his bottom lip to stop it from trembling and Zitao exclaimed, “Hun, are you crying?” before bundling Sehun up in a tight hug, his high pitched giggling in Sehun’s ears.

Sehun patted his back. “Don’t leave, okay?” he blubbed, blinking away tears.

“I won’t,” Zitao smiled, his tired mind wondering whether he could fall asleep in Sehun’s arms and let him carry him home. “I don’t want to go either.”  


**Author's Note:**

> *screeches and hides my face* this ending is so disgustingly sappy omfg  
> Crit and comments welcome!  
> World's most incredible edit made by [whereisexom](http://whereisexom.tumblr.com/post/125677910624)!! Thank you!!!  
>   
> crossposted on [livejournal](http://trashdemon.livejournal.com/772.html)


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